Home Sweet Home

Before we moved to Canada, my first homes have been series of apartments in Brest. In Moncton, New-brunswick, we lived in a little bungalow for three years. When I was 9 years old, my parents came to Gatineau where we lived in a big house in the richy suburb. My parents separated and I went on to live with my mother a street further. Teenage cought up on me and I then would of called my car home. I finally met Mark and I slowly went from squatting his apartments onto living with him. After rebuilding the Marie Ty we moved on our boat aboard which we lived for two years. We are now living in our cute farm house circa 1885 out in the deep country where we are building the next home, our next boat.

Threw all those years and changes there has been one house where I have evenly felt, from the day I was born, I was at home . My grand-parents house was built for them over 50 years ago. It is a modest semi-detached britanny house, but sweating of all the character half a century of living and loving can provide. The Concarneau house is for me more than a roof and walls surrounded by a colorful garden, it's my warmest memories. You could bring me to it blind and deaf that its smells alone would remind me my best laughs, my best meals, my best hugs.
It smells like a mix of the seas iodine and of my grand-mothers on going laundry. On Sundays the roasting chicken would overcome all the usual smells and on damp winter days you could guess a hint soup in the air.
I spent there much of my toddler life and all my childhood and teenage summers. The house faces the sea and opens its windows to a view on the Atlantic. Down the road there is the beach and the nicest coastal trails but there is no need to get out to feel Concarneau's beauty. The small yard is a colorful garden weaved threw by small stone alleys. As for the neighborhood, people have moved, but I remember getting ice cream from neighbors just for the cost of dropping by to say hello....I grew up and the ice cream became beverages. My grand mothers house is still the stop of many when they feel like having a chat... maybe also get a drink or a bite to eat. I have never known the Concarneau house without regular visitors mostly the neighborhood ladies with there nosy stories from around town but also family and friends who will never miss an opportunity to enjoy there a happy moment.

Is it the flowers, the stones, the view or simply my grand mothers welcoming smile? I know anybody who crosses the gate can immediately understands why I love this house I always have been able to call home.